


Pushing and Pulling

by lloronadeazulceleste



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, I love them with all my heart - Freeform, i just love drawing parallels between these two princesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 22:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21064427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lloronadeazulceleste/pseuds/lloronadeazulceleste
Summary: Crown Princess Izumi of the Fire Nation knew she was going to love the avatar’s oldest ever since she was a child, the same way she knew the sun rose in the morning and hid on the horizon at night. It was only a matter of time until he noticed it as well. Fortunately for him, Izumi was a patient woman.





	1. Your wish is my command

Crown Princess Izumi of the Fire Nation knew she was going to love the Avatar’s oldest ever since she was a child, the same way she knew the sun rose in the morning and hid on the horizon at night. It was only a matter of time until he noticed it as well. Fortunately for him, Izumi was a patient woman. Certainty lulled her every day; after all, she had heard the dragon’s whisper in her sleep.

He’d only need time. Just a small push. She’d only need to wait. Just a small pull.

So, she occupied herself with books until her eyes ached and she had to wear lunettes. She found herself in every heroine of history –lovers and fighters, nurturers and knights of death, the conquered and the conqueror, dragons and roses – and imagined him imagining her. She found herself in the dusty pages, and his shadow clouded her mind. He’d be the hero of each story, the faceless knight, the faithful companion, and a loving soul.

She loved him when he was a round child with big cheeks and wild hair. She loved him when he was a lanky teenager with awkward mannerisms. She loved him when his voice quaked and his shoulders were bony. She loved him when he trained and pushed himself harder and harder. She loved him when he thought he didn’t deserve it. She loved him when he did not think he was that much. She loved him when she thought she was more than enough. She loved him when he did not seem to see how everyone valued him. She loved him when he felt the pressure of his father’s legacy on his shoulders, and he punished himself for not being what he was expected to be. She loved him when he was whinny and dramatic, found happiness in his theatrics. She loved him when he played dumb, and when he was dumber, and when he would fool everyone around him. She loved him when he went serious, and when that serious shadow fell on his shoulder.

She loved him as she knew him, like the back of her hand, like her mirror, like her soul.

And he loved her, too. He loved her later, when he was no longer unsure. He loved her when she was courted by foreign princes and she blushed the loveliest shade of red. He loved her when her hair reached her hips. He loved her when her eyes gleamed like gems. He loved her when her hands covered in cuts from her knife-throwing lessons. He loved her when she was powerful, red hot flames surging from her hands. He loved her when she was powerless, too tired to keep on talking but too stubborn to just go to her room already, falling asleep on the library, and every salon they ever found themselves in. He loved her when she danced, and her body moved in a rhythm that only she seemed to listen. He loved her when she fought, and when she brooded, and when she kept to herself. He loved her when she let him in, and when she shared what was on her mind without care because she trusted him.

He loved her as she knew him, like the back of his hand, like his armor, like his life.

Princess Azula was trusted with the creation of the United Forces. She and General Kanto trained the young recruits in their mission to protect the Nations from the shadows of a century-long war, following the premise of righting their wrongs. It was their own dancing, an old push and pull that went hidden by curious eyes and gossipy whispers. A song only they knew, and one no curious eyes ever dare comment on.

Bumi wanted to leave, naturally. He could not phantom staying any longer at his house, with perfect Tenzin and the weight of the Air Nomads’ culture reminding him of his failure. He could still serve the world. He could still prove himself useful.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she told him after he said his goodbye.

He managed to sound more annoying than hurt when he said, “there’s nothing else for me.”

“Your family needs you. You can still help them with—”

“I don’t want to help, princess. I want to fight.”

“You will be away from your family,” she said but meant more.

“So be it. They won’t miss me; they have Tenzin.”

He had the somber air he sometimes got whenever they spoke of their future, and their goodbye was whispered in the wind by voices more powerful than theirs.

She sighed. “I would miss you.”

He laughed it off, but the sound was alien to her ears. “You’ll get over it,” he said, and he rolled his eyes. His clenched fits told another story. “You’ll be queen, and you’ll get married, and there will be no time nor space for me in your life.”

Noticing the bitter tone in his voice, she knew it was time to pull. “I don’t want to get married if it’s not with you,” she said, and her voice was calm.

“You will have to.”

“I will be Fire Lord. I don’t answer to anyone,” she said in her princess's voice and left no room for insubordination from men who knew better, but unfortunately, Bumi did not. He was never known for his sense of self-preservation, after all.

“Yes, you do,” he said, but he sounded soft as if it the thought didn’t cause anger but sadness. A regret that ran deep – a wistfulness she had never known before.

“So let’s get married, then.”

“Avatar son or not, I still am a peasant.”

“Doesn’t matter,” she rolled her eyes, her mouth a small line. It seemed as if he was only looking for excuses to run away. If that was the case, then a Princess will retreat and surrender; courageous as she was, Izumi had her pride.

“Matters to me,” he said, and his hands found its way to her cheeks, calloused fingers caressing the soft porcelain of the princess’ face.

“You don’t owe shit to anyone,” she said, and it sounded weird to hear her cussing in her soft voice. He laughed softly. “You matter, and you are enough.”

“Izumi.”

“Do you not love me?”

“How dare you suggest that?” his hands left her face, feeling like he was punched.

“Then prove it,” she raised her chin. “Stay.”

He looked at her, hands going to gently cup her face again. The warmth that her body emanated could have been able to burn it; he wanted to burn at her hand. Izumi closed her eyes in content, one of her hands coming on top of his. It pained him to see her this calm, the storm hid behind her eyelids. He sighed, “this is something I have to do.”

She understood, then. It didn’t make anything easier.

“Then go,” she said, though she wanted to say that she would miss him. Izumi took a step back, squared her shoulders, and her princess mask was on again. Bumi took a deep breath, dying with the want to crush her against his chest and never let go.

“I will always come back to you,” he whispered, and his hot breath caressed her face. “I cannot stay far, even if I wanted.”

That seemed to change. Her resolution wavered, and he could see the exact thought that crossed her eyes, for it echoed his owns. “Don’t get yourself killed,” she said, and she kissed him deeply.

His laughter was lost on her lips, and she drank it happily.


	2. I will follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you fight for me?” she asks again, eyes glazy. She cannot say a thing – she does not trust herself not to give her all in simple words. Azula knows she should be pushing him away but finds that lacking the strength to do so makes it all the more difficult. He seemed to read between her locked words and nodded with tight lips. Her throat hurts, but she pushes to go on. “Would you follow me to battle?”

They find each other with ease. It seems like something out of a nightmare – how easy the other knows their hiding places. He pushes and she pulls, and he lets her win (convinces himself that it was not wishful thinking) just to see that beautiful smug on her red lips. He extends his arm to her, and she takes it as if she were doing him a favor, though he feels the way she relaxes against him.

A sea of people wastes no time trying to see where their little game is leading. They have long given up on trying to make sense of the princess schemes.

They bow to each other, eyes fixed, and start their steps.

They fit like puzzle pieces, and it’s been long enough they noticed it. He pushes, and she pulls, and it drags a smile to his face, however brief, that he is the only one who gets to see her eyes burn and gleam and talk.

His victory does not last long – she always manages to find coverings, and her lies always sound the sweetest. He could get drunk on them – on the empty promises, but he doesn’t. He pushes and waits for her pull.

“How many years will we dance around this thing?” is his tired question, a small smile drawn on his face.

The princess’ eyes hold fire, and their warmth point the truth that her words lack. “As many as needed for you to understand that I am no bird to be caged, General.”

“I have never presumed you were,” he says, and he feels his hands burning with the want to touch her, “but my feelings might change.”

Azula laughs softly, a shake of her head. He feels the urge to kiss the smug off her face, hard. “They won’t. And if they do, then they were not as true as you presumed.”

There is a threat there, and fear that is as old as herself. It is no news to him; he loves her ghosts as much as he loves her fire.

“I could accuse you of such a thing as well,” he replies, eyes burning through hers. Princess Azula trembles, and he is delighted to feel it against his skin.

It worked, for the princess lost the smile of her face. “You’ll dare not. I _am_ still your princess.”

“I believe I have made nothing but serve my princess from as long as I’ve met you,” he says, and his tone is gentle.

“You’ve done good, General.”

“It’s been my pleasure, and an honor.”

“The crown thanks you for your service.”

He laughs at last; he never went through years of protocol and etiquette, after all. Azula is no longer afraid to find that she likes how irreverent he can be. Soon, she is joining him as she laughs softly through her playful smirk.

There is a pause. It lasts longer than it is comfortable, and Azula watches his mood changing. She feels it in the urgency of the hold of his arm around her waist.

“And you?” he asks, and it is a whisper.

“The Princess does as well.”

“Azula…”

The smirk on her lips is lost.

“I cannot marry,” she whispers, trying (and failing) to keep a sigh from leaving her lips. She hopes he can’t hear her with the music around them, but her luck had turned ever since the fateful day she battled her brother. “Zuko needs me here.”

“He seems pretty capable of ruling a country without your aid.”

“He is,” she answers suddenly his gaze too heavy for her to stand it, so she looks elsewhere else. “I love what I do. I could never be happy living a simple life.”

“I will never wish that on you,” is his fervent reply.

“I will never bear children,” she says, and her breath is scorching. “I hate them.”

“You’re not as bad with them as you think you are,” he says, and his fingers draw small circles on her back. “And you must know I never cared much for children, anyway.”

“You will have to. Who is going to foresee your legacy? I am of no consequence in the Royal Succession anymore, but children are expected from you,” she looks at him, and her eyes leave no room for arguing. “I will not change my mind. Ever.”

“If you don’t want this, you can simply say so,” he shrugs. “Say it, Azula, and I will leave you be. One word and I will disappear,” he says. General Kanto looks at her, and she finds that all her resolution is already lost.

“Would you fight for me?” she asks, and her voice comes as a shaky whisper, for all she tried to look like the regal, ice-cold princess she made herself to be.

“You know I will, as I have before.”

“I-I have…” she stops and swallows. Why is it always so hard with him? “There needs to be a force capable to seek for the people’s wellbeing. I have spoken to the Avatar and the Council. They agree, surprisingly enough.”

He does answer, his eyes locked to hers.

She is making no sense. For all her etiquette and eloquence lessons, she knew not of ways to voice what was troubling her mind. She gulps. “I will be the first General of the United Forces.”

“Congratulations,” he said in a breathy whisper, his words a caress against the skin of her fac, his hands warm against the fabric of her dress.

He is looking right through her, eyes locked on hers, and she can’t stand it. “That means I have less time to be… doing whatever it is that we’ve been doing for this long.”

“I can be fast,” he joked, and she can’t help but laugh, and really, that’s why is so dangerous to even consider it. “I doubt you’ll like it, but I can get creative,” he says, and she snorts but does not respond. When her laughter does not reach her eyes, he stills. “Say the word and it’s over.”

“Would you fight for me?” she asks again, eyes glazy. She cannot say a thing – she does not trust herself not to give her all in simple words. Azula knows she should be pushing him away but finds that lacking the strength to do so makes it all the more difficult. He seemed to read between her locked words and nodded with tight lips. Her throat hurts, but she pushes to go on. “Would you follow me to battle?”

“I wouldn’t follow anyone else.”

“Then come,” she says, and her voice is a warm whisper against his lips. “Come with me. The Forces will need someone to train them, and I will never trust anyone but you.”

“I’m honored,” he says, and she knows it is not a General’s answer. She is grateful all the more.

Their dance does not stop. He twirls her around, and she comes back to his arms.

He pushes, and she pulls.

“You say the Forces need me. But what will happen to me once I am there? Azula, I’ve…”

She interrupts him, of course. Her voice is a whisper he drinks eagerly, with his heart on his eyes, “I cannot offer much. I can only offer my loyalty.”

She is baring herself for him, as vulnerable as she can get without losing her mind.

This time she pushes, and he is no less quick to pull back.

“I want you.”

“You have never asked.”

“You have never said ‘yes’”.

“I would, if you’d only ask.”


End file.
